///
Stop it! He's your stepfather!
"Daddy," I repeat, trying to work up the courage to tell him my decision.
"Thank you for your offer," I say hesitantly, searching for the right words. "It is incredibly generous. I have decided … "
Before the words could escape my mouth I felt my stepfather's gruff finger pressing across my lips, preventing me from speaking.
"You will tell me in the morning, as I instructed," he says.
He shouldn't be able to bully me like this. I should just tell him anyway. Right when I'm about to resume my effort to tell him of my decision, the kitchen doors swing open and our longtime chef, Pepe, comes bustling into the banquet hall, balancing two bowls, which he places on our plates.
"For you, Beast," he says. "And for you, little Sofi."
It's a fresh salad of mixed greens and colorful flourishes, strange tropical fruits, tiny cubes of red and yellow bell pepper, and slivers of almond in a tangy vinaigrette. Pepe waits expectantly at my stepfather's side, waiting for him to take his first bite. Beast swallows a mouthful of greens and nods in approval.
"Delicious," he says.
"Thank you sir," Pepe practically squeals with joy and relief. "Beast," our chef continues a bit more reluctantly, "is this a good time to ask you a question?"
"Good as any," Beast mutters.
"Well, you see," Pepe stutters, clutching his white chef's hat in his hands, "I need to ask off for a day or two. My mother is in the hospital. They say she's dying, that she won't make it through the night. If it would not inconvenience you too much, I'd like to catch the next ferry to the island. I'd like to tell her goodbye. Or, if I am too late, and she has passed, to pay my final respects."
My stepfather glares at Pepe. No way is our chef leaving work for a couple of days. Obviously Beast doesn't care about someone's dying mother. He's a monster. Pepe is sweating Beastets. He can tell he made a mistake, asking too much. Beast pulls out his phone, mutters something, and an instant later Rubio is standing at our side.
"Bring the chopper," Beast orders. "Take Pepe where he needs to go."
"Right away, boss," Rubio turns, hustling for the door.
"Thank you, sir!" Pepe cries. "Oh, thank you!"
Beast wipes his mouth with his napkin. He does not seem to be stirred in the slightest by Pepe's gratitude. This man would steal candy from a baby. Could it be that I don't know everything about the man who raised me? It's a lot to process.
"Next course," Beast intones.
"Right away!" Pepe cries. "You're in for a treat!"
That night we feast. Pepe's sous chef takes over and handles himself admirably, serving us delectable course after course of delicious steamed lobster dripping with butter and thick seared steak. To my surprise the meal ends with a simple bowl of homemade mango ice cream.
"My favorite!" I exclaim.
"I know," Beast says.
How does he know what ice cream I like? The revelation takes me aback, but not for long. I quickly grab my spoon and lick down every bite. I'm enjoying the ice cream so much I fail to notice that Beast has barely touched his, eating maybe a spoonful or two before it has melted to sticky orange soup.
"Come with me," he says when I'm done with the last spoonful.
He rises from the banquet table, his hard, strong body looming over me. When I notice his attire I feel under-dressed in my simple white sundress. He is wearing a tailored suit of exquisite light tan fabric, perfect for business in the tropics. His shoulders are impossibly broad, his waist narrow. His shirt is opened wide at the collar, exposing the body hair that so revolted me as a little girl. But now I wonder what it would be like to run my hands through it, to feel those bulging muscles of his chest, to feel the hardness of his rippled abs, maybe to try something more.
It makes me angry with myself when I realize I am fantasizing about him again.
Beast motions for me to stand up, and as he guides me through the banquet hall door he places one hand firmly in the small of my back. Tingly sparks of electricity shoot through my body. I feel hot, flustered. Is it my imagination, or does Beast notice how ruffled he is making me? He seems to be enjoying himself in a very subtle way, like internal laughter is ever-so-slightly breaking through the wall he has built between himself and other people.
We're walking side by side now through the hallway, toward the door, and I catch myself studying the scars slashing across his face. They are as gruesome as ever, reminders of wounds that will never heal, all purple and deep, like ugly trenches across his skin. Beast notices that I am staring at him, and the traces of his laughter vanish.
///
"Let's go to the beach," he says.
IV.
We wander across the lawn, side by side and not saying a word. The full moon illuminates our path through the palm trees and gardens, down to the sandy beach where the water sparkles like stars on the rolling waves. Heavy waves break into white foam on the shore. The rhythmic rise and fall of the roaring breakers soothes my pounding heart.
At the edge of the sand, Beast steps out of his shoes and I follow his lead, kicking off my flip flops. He still hasn't uttered so much as a word, or even looked at me. We walk side by side along the shore. The wet sand feels gritty and cool under my bare feet. The strongest waves lap at our ankles, leaving sea shells and sand dollars. Tiny crabs scurry away from our approach.
"Sofi," my stepfather says softly.
He stops as I turn to face him. In the moonlight, I see Beast still wearing his suit, with his pants legs rolled past his shins, exposing the sharp contours of his muscular calves. The darkly ornate body art that covers his arms and torso is mostly hidden by his clothing, though the upper ends of the tattoos lick at his neck.
He cuts an imposing figure, and he is far more handsome than I ever realized. My feelings are so tangled and conflicted by this man who has done unspeakably horrible things to build his empire-an empire that has given me everything I ever wanted.
Beast's dark eyes burn into mine. They burn with so much strong feeling they overshadow his scars.
"I am not a man of many words," he says. "In my business, it is not prudent to reveal emotion. Any perceived weakness would most certainly be used against me."
A flash of anguish shoots through Beast's eyes. For a man who speaks so little, he is now struggling with words and emotions he finds difficult to express.
"I miss your mother. I think of her all the time," he says after pausing to recollect himself. "You remind me of her so much. That's why I pushed you away from me. To remain strong, in control, I had to lock you out of my heart. Now that you are a woman I think you should know that."
Now I'm crying softly. He wipes away the tear and something inside of me breaks.
"I could have used a parent," I say.
"I'm sorry, Sofi," he says, pulling me into his embrace. "I'm so sorry."
Beast holds me tightly. He smells good, like a man. My tiny body tucks securely into his much larger frame, his muscular arms wrapped around my shoulders, his large strong hands grasping my back. I can feel the roughness of his palms and fingers upon my sundress, hard upon my skin.
Still standing at the water's edge, on the moonlit beach, I am overcome by emotion. I feel like I understand my stepfather for the first time. Something wild and uncontrollable comes over me. I want to feel his mouth against mine, to kiss him deeply, to show him that I love him and all is forgiven. I cup his scruffy cheeks in my hands and pull myself toward his face, scars and all. My lips find his mouth. He hesitates at first, then gives in to his own pent-up passion. His full lips nuzzle mine, and when I feel his tongue my mouth parts slightly to accept him in. He dips into my mouth and our tongues caress each other.
His savage hands rake down my back, grabbing my ass and pulling me harder against him. It makes me so hot, I can feel the wetness gathering between my legs. I can feel the gathering hardness of his crotch pressing against me, making me even wetter.
Suddenly Beast breaks our embrace. "Sofi, stop," he says, pulling away from me. "I want you so bad. If we continue there will be no turning back."
A naughty gleam fills my eyes.
"Here's your answer," I say, dropping to my knees on the wet sand. I loosen his belt buckle and unbutton the front of his pants. When I unzip him he reaches down, and an impossibly big, deliciously meaty cock spills from his trousers